Episode 06a, VS75 Legacies
by Voyager Season 7.5
Summary: When B'Elanna Torres discovers she is pregnant, both she and her husband Tom must deal with their emotional reactions ...


Episode 6a  
Legacies I  
  
  
  
Welcome to Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 season premiere. Our goal is to redo   
Voyager's seventh and final season to fit our vision of what could have been.   
The first four episodes are set before Shattered, then we split completely from   
official canon.  
  
Sit back, put your feet up and enjoy.  
  
Comments are most welcome.  
  
  
Introduction  
  
  
The guiding principal of Season 7.5 was to  
keep those elements of Voyager's final season,  
as presented by TPTB, which we felt remained  
true to the original series concept, while  
"fixing" what we felt caused the series to go  
astray in its final year.  
  
Although Julie and Jamelia enjoyed how B'Elanna  
Torres and Thomas Paris came together  
(finally!) and became man and wife in "Drive"  
(an episode that is accepted as part of Season  
7.5's canon), their marriage may truly be said  
to have begun in "Lineage." Thus, this two-part  
episode of Season 7.5 is based upon that  
Voyager episode. At the end of the second part  
of "Legacies," an Afterword discussing our  
rationale for revising "Lineage" rather than  
doing something totally different will appear,  
for those interested in reading it.  
  
For those who would have preferred we totally  
ditch the events of "Lineage," we're sorry, but  
there was too much good in the episode for  
that. Hopefully, you can enjoy "Legacies" for  
the way the not-so-good was handled by us.  
  
Thanks are due to James Kahn, who wrote  
"Lineage." Although it was a Cardassian ship  
that found its way into the Delta Quadrant  
during Voyager Season 7.5, not a Klingon one,  
we also acknowledge our debt to Larry Nemecek &  
J. Kelley Burke and Raf Green & Kenneth Biller  
for the story of "Prophecy," as well as to Mike  
Sussman & Phyllis Strong, who wrote the  
teleplay. We won't claim we wrote what we did  
not--we've just got a little alternate universe  
thing going on here on Voyager Season 7.5 . . .  
  
Julie and Jamelia  
  
  
  
  
  
  
LEGACIES  
  
Prologue  
  
Their mission had been a brief one, taking  
only the better part of the day, but it had  
been immensely successful, at least to hear  
B'Elanna and Seven tell it.  
  
"It's over ninety-nine percent pure."  
B'Elanna's voice held a bit of awe as she  
punched numbers into a dataPADD. "That's  
almost unheard of."  
  
"Ninety-nine point two six percent, to be  
precise."  
  
It was an indication of B'Elanna's intense  
concentration that she didn't react to Seven's  
correction.  
  
"Only one point six percent of diallo-silicate  
approaches that level of purity," Icheb chimed  
in as he crouched down next to Seven and  
B'Elanna.  
  
"Imagine how well this will bond with our raw  
dilithium."  
  
Tom shook his head at his B'Elanna's excited  
tone. "It's not like we permanently solved  
all our energy needs."  
  
"No, but it will make our dilithium crystals  
last twice as long."  
  
Tom looked at Harry, who was manning the co-  
pilot's seat in the Delta Flyer. "Mission  
accomplished." He glanced back at the others.  
"We always manage to find what we need. What's  
the big deal?"  
  
Seven gave Tom a cool stare, and B'Elanna  
glowered good-naturedly at him. "Just drive,  
Tom."  
  
Tom returned his wife's smirk. "Okaaay." He  
turned back to the helm and entered a minor  
course correction. "By the way, Icheb, I  
added your upgrades to my race car program.  
You were right about the engine performance.  
I tried out the hairpin course and beat my  
best time by 27 seconds."  
  
Icheb handed Seven the last sample they'd  
scanned. "I believe I can surpass my best  
time by at least 30 seconds. I have the  
holodeck reserved tomorrow night."  
  
"You keep practicing, and you might even beat  
me one day," Tom said, though he didn't  
believe it for a minute.  
  
"I will surpass your time one day," Icheb said  
confidently. "It is only a matter of which  
day."  
  
Harry chuckled as Tom raised his eyebrows.  
"Maybe I'll join you tomorrow night, Icheb.  
Tom's record can't be too hard to beat."  
  
"Racing in an antiquated carburetor-based  
vehicle is a pointless endeavor," Seven told  
Icheb before Tom could reply to Harry's  
deliberate baiting. "There are more productive  
endeavors you could pursue in your off duty  
hours."  
  
"It's not pointless if it's fun," Tom said, not  
particularly offended by Seven's judgment.  
They'd had this argument before. It enlivened  
their occasional shared navigational watches.  
  
Seven responded right on cue. "It still serves  
little purpose."  
  
B'Elanna rolled her eyes, though her attention  
remained on the sample she was replacing in  
the storage container. "Everything doesn't  
have to serve a purpose, Seven."  
  
"Besides, it does serve a purpose," Tom said.  
"You only live once, and the real goal is to  
enjoy yourself. I like my job, but I don't  
want to spend all my time doing only that." He  
glanced at B'Elanna. "There are other things  
I enjoy more."  
  
"According to my studies on humanoid physiology  
'play' is an important element of mental and  
physical well-being for most species."  
  
Tom nodded. "Exactly, Icheb. All work and no  
play makes for a dull existence."  
  
B'Elanna looked at Tom. "I know there are  
times when I'm in the mood to . . .play."  
  
Tom grinned at his wife's suggestive tone, and  
Harry groaned.  
  
"Alternating periods of recreation also  
improves work efficiency," Icheb added,  
completely missing the innuendo.  
  
"That must be why my department had such a high  
efficiency rating in your last audit, Seven,"  
Tom said, with no modesty whatsoever.  
  
Seven's eyebrow rose. "I doubt that is the  
causative factor behind the helm department's  
efficiency, Lieutenant Paris. However I will  
concede that your propensity for unproductive  
and frequently juvenile holoprograms does not  
appear to have had a critical impact upon your  
job performance."  
  
Harry snickered, and Tom smirked at him. "I  
wouldn't laugh too hard, *Buster.*"  
  
"That's the last sample," B'Elanna announced,  
sealing the container. She rose from her  
crouching position. "We can finish the . . ."  
  
"Lieutenant Torres!"  
  
Tom whirled around at Icheb's exclamation, just  
in time to see Seven and Icheb catch B'Elanna  
as she fell. They guided her to the nearest  
chair, and lowered her into it.  
  
"Harry, take the conn."  
  
Tom didn't wait for Harry's answer. He was at  
B'Elanna's side by the time she stirred. He  
knelt next to her as she mumbled something  
incoherent. "Icheb, get the medical scanner  
from the storage locker."  
  
B'Elanna sat up straighter, shaking her head as  
if to clear it. "What happened?"  
  
"You fainted for a few seconds," Tom said,  
touching her cheek. She wasn't feverish.  
  
B'Elanna snorted, though it was half-hearted.  
"That's ridiculous!"  
  
"During periods of illness or extreme fatigue  
it is not uncommon for Klingons to experience  
a drop in blood pressure, resulting in  
unconsciousness," Seven stated.  
  
B'Elanna scowled at her. "I'm only half  
Klingon. And I'm not ill or fatigued."  
  
Tom took the scanner from Icheb, and put a  
restraining hand on B'Elanna's arm as she  
started to rise. "Just relax while I scan  
you."  
  
"I'm fine," B'Elanna said irritably, though she  
didn't try to get up again. "I probably just  
stood up too quickly. And I didn't eat much  
lunch."  
  
"Or breakfast?" Tom asked, running the scanner  
over her. She'd left their quarters before  
him this morning, and he knew she sometimes  
didn't bother with breakfast if she was in a  
hurry to start her shift. He looked at the  
readout. "Your blood sugar is low. You need  
to eat more regularly, B'Elanna, and quit  
skipping meals--"  
  
"I can handle my own eating habits, thank  
you . . ." B'Elanna's sharp rebuke trailed off  
as Tom looked up at her with the most  
astonished expression she'd ever seen on his  
face. "What?"  
  
Tom didn't speak. He looked at the scanner  
again, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't  
believe what he was seeing. That alarmed  
B'Elanna.  
  
"Tom, what's wrong?"  
  
Tom shook his head slowly, sounding dazed when  
he finally spoke. "Nothing. I mean, it's  
nothing bad--"  
  
"Tom!"  
  
"You're pregnant."  
  
"I'm . . .WHAT?" She couldn't have heard him  
right.  
  
"Pregnant," Tom repeated patiently.  
  
B'Elanna stared at him, stunned. "Pregnant?"  
she squeaked, her voice suddenly small.  
"How . . ."  
  
Tom's lips quirked a little, though he still  
couldn't quite believe it himself. "The usual  
way, I'd say."  
  
The silence in the Delta Flyer lasted for  
several moments as B'Elanna and Tom looked at  
each other intently, both trying to take it  
in. It was Seven who finally spoke. "You  
appear surprised by this development. Did you  
not intend to conceive a child?" she asked,  
her tone curious and slightly disapproving.  
  
"Of course, we did." Tom kept his gaze on  
B'Elanna. "That's why we discontinued our  
contraceptive boosters. But the doctor told  
us the likelihood of human-Klingon conception  
was extremely low. We didn't expect it to  
happen this soon." Or perhaps ever, not  
without medical intervention. "It's a bit of a  
surprise." That was an understatement. "But a  
wonderful one."  
  
"Are you sure?" B'Elanna's voice was soft, and  
a little uncertain.  
  
Tom dropped a hand on her knee. "Absolutely."  
His wide smile left no doubt of that. He was  
going to be a father. The idea delighted him.  
  
B'Elanna covered his hand with hers and smiled  
slowly back.  
  
"Congratulations," Harry said, with complete  
sincerity. "Though I can't say I'm all that  
surprised you beat those odds, given your  
level of, er, activity. That had to improve  
your chances."  
  
Tom couldn't help grinning at Harry's chutzpah,  
though B'Elanna gave Harry a reproving frown.  
  
"I guess we'll all have to be careful now,"  
Harry added. He winked at Icheb. "Pregnancy  
might be contagious."  
  
Icheb's brow furrowed. "That is not possible  
with single-cell fertilization."  
  
Harry glanced at Seven, who gave him a shrewd  
look. "Uh, I was just joking, Icheb," he  
said, trying not to blush at the reminder of  
the last time he'd discussed single-cell  
fertilization with a former Borg.  
  
Tom, too preoccupied to pay much attention to  
the conversation around him, turned off the  
medical scanner. "We'll go to Sickbay and see  
the doctor as soon as we get back on Voyager."  
  
B'Elanna nodded silently, more acquiescent than  
usual to the idea of visiting Sickbay.  
  
"Speaking of which, Harry . . ."  
  
Harry looked at Tom.  
  
"You might want to correct our course, or we're  
going to crash into the bridge instead of  
landing in the shuttlebay."  
  
Harry followed Tom's gaze to where Voyager was  
now visible through the front viewscreen.  
"Oh. Right." He'd never understood Tom's  
uncanny ability to see those minute  
deflections with only his eyes, but the  
computer verified it, and he quickly entered  
the correction. "Delta Flyer to Voyager.  
We're on final approach."  
  
Tom and B'Elanna continued to smile at each  
other bemusedly as the Delta Flyer approached  
Voyager, both trying to wrap their minds  
around the unexpected curve their lives were  
about to take.  
  
Act 1  
  
Thanks to the vigilant and persistent interest  
of the Doctor, Icheb had been as diligent in  
studying humanoid single-cell reproduction as  
he had the manipulation of genetic material to  
eliminate inherited diseases and obtain  
desirable traits in offspring, not that he had  
actually spent much time considering what that  
might mean to him personally. Since he had once  
had a fleeting rivalry with Lieutenant Paris  
because of Lieutenant Torres's brief  
attachment to him, however, Icheb found himself  
thinking about the subject quite a bit during  
the trip back to Voyager.  
  
Lieutenant Paris was very solicitous of his  
wife's well-being, asking her several times if  
she were comfortable, or if she were dizzy, or  
if she might want something to eat or a drink  
of water. In fact, Lieutenant Paris had twice  
requested that Icheb bring Lieutenant Torres a  
glass of water during the brief journey back  
to Voyager, even though she had specified that  
she did not need anything to drink at that  
particular time. Fortunately, her glare was  
not directed towards Icheb when he complied  
with the pilot's requests, but rather fastened  
unblinkingly upon her husband. Icheb also noted  
the softening of her features when she sipped  
the water, however, and the small, almost  
secretive smile that followed. The fluctuation  
in her emotional state during the ingestion of  
two unflavored glasses of water was quite  
fascinating. Even in the earliest stages of  
its development, the child appeared to be  
changing the relationship of the two  
lieutenants in a most profound way.  
  
Except for his brief flirtation with Lieutenant  
Torres, Icheb had never considered anyone on  
board Voyager as a likely romantic partner. He  
was much younger than the entire crew. Now  
that Mezoti, Azan and Rebi had left Voyager for  
homes provided by the people of a friendly  
planet, as had happened previously with the  
little unnamed Borg baby, the only one younger  
than Icheb was Naomi. She was too young for  
him, of course, since she was about ten  
Federation standard years younger than he,  
about the same difference as Icheb's age in  
relation to the youngest of Voyager's crew.  
  
The actual difference in their ages was  
somewhat debatable. Icheb's parents had not  
confirmed his birthdate during the brief,  
bittersweet time he had spent with them before  
they sent him off as a sacrifice to the Borg in  
a second attempt to destroy the Collective, via  
a deadly virus they had placed in his DNA  
through their knowledge of gene resequencing.  
Icheb's growth had been accelerated to an  
unknown degree in the Borg maturation chamber,  
as well, but since he had spent only a short  
time there, he did not believe it had made a  
great difference.  
  
The closest Seven and the Doctor had been able  
to come to establishing an age for Icheb in  
Federation standard years was 16 years, 2  
months--with a possible deviation of 3 months.  
If this were true, it was clear that while  
Naomi was still very much a child, Icheb was an  
adult, albeit a youthful one. In fact, Naomi  
had become like Mezoti had been to him, a very  
dear little sister. At some date far, far in  
the future, the wide gap in age between Naomi  
and himself might be less imposing, but he  
could never imagine Naomi ever being other than  
a good friend.  
  
Thinking about his isolation from the rest of  
the crew, by age, and by the happenstance that  
he was the only representative of a Delta  
Quadrant race that now was far behind Voyager's  
course in its journey towards the Alpha  
Quadrant, disturbed his equilibrium; and  
recalling the virus lurking in his body, and  
how it got there, never failed to depress his  
efficiency rating. While its presence  
suggested that he himself might not have been  
conceived in "the usual way," as Lieutenant  
Paris had jokingly observed, there was nothing  
intrinsically wrong about such an origin.  
People of differing races often had to resort  
to such means in order to reproduce, as  
Lieutenants Paris and Torres had apparently  
thought would be necessary in their case.  
Icheb was pleased that they had been successful  
by using "the usual way," without the need to  
tamper with their child's inheritance, the way  
his own parents had done.  
  
Icheb went to the replicator and procured  
himself a glass of water to fill the sudden  
hollowness he detected in his abdominal area.  
He then turned his full attention upon his  
console during their final approach to the  
shuttle bay, studying the sensor readings with  
great care to banish his musings from his  
mind. He did not want to think about his  
parents. Ensign Kim had everything under  
control, however, and he could not totally  
keep his attention from wandering to the  
subject of reproduction as practiced in "the  
usual way," more or less, by all of the races  
represented on Voyager. To his surprise, this  
did not prevent him from being very  
discomforted, for visualizing the act was  
strangely provoking. It did not help that he  
could not easily imagine any partner for  
himself in this endeavor. And when he found  
himself thinking about the prospective parents  
who, from Lieutenant Torres's current  
condition, plainly had engaged in it, he  
discovered that the temperature of his facial  
epidermal layer raised substantially, causing  
a temporary change in the color of his skin  
tone.  
  
Single-cell reproduction was, indeed, a very  
complicated way to obtain progeny, though  
apparently a desirable one--under the right  
circumstances and with the right partner, of  
course.  
  
^*^*^*^  
  
"Are you sure you don't want a site-to-site  
transport to Sickbay?" Lieutenant Paris asked  
his wife as the Delta Flyer touched down  
inside the shuttle bay.  
  
"We could have transported to Sickbay on our  
final approach if we had needed to, Tom! As  
long as you're with me, I'm sure I can walk  
there under my own power."  
  
"At the first sign of trouble . . ."  
  
"I know, I know," Icheb heard Lieutenant Torres  
say as they walked back, towards the exit.  
  
They hesitated a moment in the doorway. "Can  
you take the diallo-silicate to engineering,  
Seven?" Lieutenant Torres asked.  
  
"I will comply," Seven said, with the slight  
twist to her mouth that, as Icheb well knew,  
meant she was fully cognizant of just how much  
that Borg-like phrase pricked the chief  
engineer's temper--under normal circumstances,  
at least.  
  
"At least we won't be leaving you in the lurch.  
Reinforcements have arrived. Can you help out  
here? I have to get B'Elanna to the Doc."  
  
"Sure," Icheb heard Naomi Wildman reply as she  
stepped inside the shuttle, moving aside to  
allow the two lieutenants to exit.  
  
"Why does Lieutenant Torres have to see the  
Doctor? Did something happen to her?"  
  
"You could say that!" Ensign Kim laughed.  
  
When the ensign did not immediately elaborate,  
Naomi put her hands on her hips in a perfect  
imitation of Captain Janeway and said firmly,  
as if she were in fact the "Captain's  
Assistant" she had once aspired to be, "What  
happened to Lieutenant Torres on the trip?"  
  
"Well, it didn't exactly happen on the trip . .  
."  
At Seven's glare, Ensign Kim relented. "It  
looks like you won't be the only baby born on  
Voyager for much longer."  
  
It took a second for Naomi to digest the  
comment before a grin lit her face. "B'Elanna  
is pregnant? Well, it's about time this crew  
got busy and had some other babies on board for  
everyone to spoil, if you ask me! Not that I'm  
a baby myself, any more," she added, with a  
wink in Icheb's direction.  
  
With some surprise, Icheb perceived that this  
was true. As Naomi had allowed the lieutenants  
to pass by her at the Delta Flyer's door, he  
had noticed she was actually slightly  
taller than Lieutenant Torres.  
  
"I'll be happy to help you with anything,"  
Naomi said. "Did you get the diallo-silicate  
you were looking for?"  
  
"Not in great quantity, but the quality is of a  
superior grade. Your assistance is not  
required; Ensign Kim and myself will be  
sufficient for the task," Seven replied.  
"However, there are four containers of other  
useful substances which we collected. They are  
in the lower compartment. Icheb may wish your  
assistance."  
  
"Please," Icheb responded.  
  
Naomi's smile dazzled him as she said, "Of  
course! Lead on!"  
  
Icheb waved Naomi ahead and followed her down  
the steps to the lower compartment,  
appreciating the way her body gracefully  
swayed with each step. That was something he  
hadn't noticed before, either. When she turned  
to face him for further instructions in the  
lower compartment, he saw that her face had  
also changed. The childish lines of her jawbone  
were sharpening into the face of a woman. The  
Naomi in his memory--the one he had been  
thinking of during the shuttle's approach to  
Voyager--was actually quite different from the  
one before him now. Very strange, how suddenly  
it had happened. She must be going through  
another "growth spurt."  
  
^*^*^*^  
  
Naomi was a great deal of help When they  
dropped off the canisters in engineering,  
Icheb's news of the chief engineer's pregnancy  
was received with a great deal of excitement.  
Tal Celes said she would go down to Deck 15 to  
give Mortimer Harren and the maintenance staff  
the news, while Susan Nicoletti, who was  
scheduled to man the engineering station on  
the bridge, said she would let everyone there  
know. Icheb and Naomi had been in Stellar  
Cartography for less than a minute, Icheb  
estimated, before the Delaney sisters "took a  
break" to "share the data" with the science  
labs, although Naomi had already told her  
mother via commbadge. By the time they arrived  
at the mess hall, passing crew members were  
asking Icheb and Naomi if they had heard "the  
news about Torres."  
  
"Am I the last person to know about B'Elanna's  
delicate condition?" asked Neelix, with an  
aggrieved air.  
  
"Maybe," Naomi teased, giving her godfather a  
quick, comforting hug.  
  
"You should have come here first! I have a baby  
shower to plan."  
  
"I think there's plenty of time to plan your  
party, Mr. Morale Officer Neelix. It's going  
to be a while before the baby is here!" Naomi  
giggled.  
  
Icheb was strangely pleased by that sound, a  
small reminder of the child Naomi had been.  
Their short trip through Voyager had  
solidified his perception that she was no  
longer a child in so many ways.  
  
"So, who's going to handle the betting pool  
about when the baby will be born?" Lieutenant  
Ayala asked.  
  
"Don't let Tom anywhere near it! He's going to  
have inside information," Ensign Kim laughed.  
  
As the cluster of crew gathered around Neelix  
rapidly grew larger and noisier, Naomi's tug  
upon Icheb's elbow was a welcome relief. He  
willingly allowed her to drag him to the far  
corner of the mess hall, where it was quieter  
and he could speak to her in relative privacy.  
  
"Enough about baby showers for one day!" Naomi  
whispered. "I wanted to ask you about how your  
Starfleet instruction is working out. I've  
been thinking about applying to do the same  
thing."  
  
"Aren't you a little young for that?" Icheb  
asked hesitantly.  
  
"Not when you're Ktarian, like I am," she  
replied with an impish grin. "Ktarians  
usually become physically adult by age seven.  
So, it's not too early for me to consider what  
I want to do when I finish growing up."  
  
"But you are only half Ktarian, Naomi."  
  
"That's true. The doctor says it will probably  
take a couple more years for me because of my  
human genes. He says I should enjoy my  
adolescence while I can, but that doesn't mean  
I shouldn't start planning my future, does it?"  
  
He only had to think about it for a moment.  
"The first thing you have to do is talk with  
Commander Tuvok . . ."  
  
^*^*^*^  
  
As they rode the turbolift from Deck 5 to Deck  
2 after their visit to Sickbay, B'Elanna and  
Tom at first were speechless. Tom finally  
broke the silence. "Are you okay about this,  
B'Elanna? Really?"  
  
"Sure. It's just quite a surprise."  
  
"Sure is."  
  
"Lots of things are going to change."  
  
"That's for sure."  
  
"Have to get lists of names started. How do you  
like Kathryn if it's a girl?"  
  
"I guess it *would* be wise to include the  
captain's name on the list."  
  
B'Elanna was silent for a moment. "Tom, do you  
think we can keep this just to ourselves for a  
bit? Just until we get used to the idea  
ourselves?"  
  
"Sure. Anything you want."  
  
The doors of the turbolift opened. Before the  
pair could exit, Joe Carey burst in.  
"Congratulations, Mom! And Tom--if you want  
any tips about fatherhood, I'm your guy. Sorry  
I can't stick around. I've got to get back  
down to engineering. You want me to do  
anything for you, B'Elanna, just ask. Watch  
your step there."  
  
The turbolift doors closed on Joe's smiling  
face. Fortunately, Tom and B'Elanna were  
standing in the corridor outside.  
  
"So much for keeping the news between us for a  
while," Tom said gently, noting a wave of  
irritation suffuse B'Elanna's face.  
  
They didn't have long to wait to find out how  
fast the word had spread. As they walked  
through the doors to the mess hall, Janeway  
and Chakotay were on their way out.  
  
"Tom, B'Elanna, congratulations!" the captain  
said immediately as she squeezed Tom's arm,  
and then hugged B'Elanna briefly.  
  
"Congratulations," Chakotay echoed the captain.  
He clapped Tom on the shoulder, and hugged  
B'Elanna in turn, grinning as he released her.  
"If someone had told me the first day I met  
you ten years ago that one day I'd be  
congratulating you on impending motherhood, I  
would never have believed it."  
  
"Me either," B'Elanna said dryly.  
  
"I know you'll make a great mother, B'Elanna."  
Chakotay kissed her on the cheek, then smiled  
at Tom. "I'm happy for you both."  
  
"Thanks," Tom said.  
  
As Janeway and Chakotay slipped out of the mess  
hall Neelix rushed up, followed by Tuvok and a  
fairly large contingent of the crew.  
"Congratulations, Tom and B'Elanna! This is  
wonderful news! Now that Naomi has gotten so  
grown up, I've got lots of time to spend with  
a new godchild. I'm very experienced with  
diapers and bottles. Just ask Naomi."  
  
"Neelix! Please!" Naomi groaned, her face  
flushing rosily, as Icheb grinned shyly by her  
side.  
  
"Well, it's true. You're almost grown up now,  
but once. . ."  
  
"Got it, Neelix," Tom agreed, taking pity on  
Naomi  
  
"How did everyone find out so quickly?"  
B'Elanna asked.  
  
"Were we not supposed to mention your baby to  
anyone, Lieutenant Torres?" Icheb asked.  
  
At the sight of Icheb's distress, B'Elanna  
controlled her temper and shrugged off-  
handedly, "No, it's fine. I'm just amazed  
everyone found out about it so fast."  
  
"It's a small ship," Naomi said, matter-of-  
factly.  
  
As everyone else laughed, Tuvok stepped  
forward. "Let me extend my best wishes as  
well, Lieutenants."  
  
"Thanks, Tuvok," Tom replied.  
  
"Mister Vulcan here has four children," Neelix  
interjected, patting Tuvok's shoulder briefly.  
"I'm sure he can offer you lots of excellent  
advice on fatherhood, Tom."  
  
Tuvok raised any eyebrow at Neelix, while Tom  
said, "I'll listen to any advice you can give  
me, Tuvok."  
  
"That would be a first," Tuvok responded, and  
Tom grinned. "However, I am willing to offer  
any counsel that you would consider useful."  
  
"Any words of wisdom now?" Tom asked.  
  
Tuvok studied both prospective parents  
contemplatively. "It is paradoxical but true  
that while children can be disturbingly  
illogical, parenthood is a profoundly  
fulfilling experience."  
  
Tom and B'Elanna looked thoughtful and a little  
bewildered at Tuvok's words, but before either  
could reply, the doctor's voice came over the  
comm. ::::"Lieutenant Torres. Lieutenant  
Paris. Please report to Sickbay  
immediately."::::  
  
Tom and B'Elanna exchanged apprehensive looks  
at the unexpected summons. "On our way,  
Doctor," Tom said quickly. Silence reigned  
and the party atmosphere deflated as Tom and  
B'Elanna fled the mess hall.  
  
Act 2  
  
The holographic image of a tiny humanoid  
spinal column spun slowly in the air in front  
of Tom and B'Elanna.  
  
"It's curved," Tom said. That much was  
certainly clear to him.  
  
The doctor nodded. "Your baby's spine has a  
pronounced curvature to the left. But there  
is a procedure that can easily correct the  
deviation."  
  
"You mean surgery?" Tom asked warily. He  
looked at B'Elanna, who was staring intently  
at the image of the baby's rotating spine.  
This was their baby the doctor was talking  
about.  
  
"Surgery used to be the only option," the  
doctor said. "But I will be doing a less  
invasive genetic modification procedure in  
utero to correct the problem."  
  
"I had surgery for the same thing when I was a  
baby," B'Elanna said. "So did my mother."  
  
Tom looked at her, surprised. She'd never told  
him that, though it wasn't a likely subject to  
come up, until now.  
  
"This particular abnormality does tend to run  
in the female line of Klingon families, so  
it's not completely unexpected. Once the  
procedure is completed--"  
  
"Wait a minute!" Tom interjected. "Doc, are  
you saying that our baby is a girl?" The  
doctor looked stricken. They'd told him when  
he'd run the first scan that they didn't want  
to know the sex of the baby. At least,  
B'Elanna had been adamant, and her eyes  
narrowed on him now. "No, I didn't--I  
said . . .you're making an assumption," he  
finished lamely.  
  
Tom smiled broadly. "It's a girl."  
  
The doctor started to protest again, but  
B'Elanna held up her hand. "Never mind." She  
gave the doctor and her grinning husband both  
exasperated looks. "It's too late now."  
  
"Look at it this way," Tom said happily. "Now  
that we know it's a girl, we'll be able to  
plan exactly what we need for her."  
  
B'Elanna looked slightly mollified, and the  
doctor took the opportunity to add his own  
positive observation. "The genetic  
modification is a very minor procedure.  
Otherwise your baby girl is perfectly healthy,  
and that is the important thing."  
  
Neither Tom nor B'Elanna could argue with that.  
"When do you want to perform the procedure?"  
B'Elanna asked the doctor.  
  
"There is no reason to delay, so I suggest we  
schedule it at your earliest convenience."  
  
"The sooner the better," B'Elanna said. It  
might be a minor procedure, but it was still a  
procedure. The sooner it was done, the sooner  
she wouldn't have to worry about her baby.  
"How about tomorrow morning?"  
  
The doctor looked at his console. "I'll  
schedule the surgery tomorrow at eight hundred  
hours."  
  
"I'd like to be here, Doctor," Tom said. "I'll  
clear it with the captain."  
  
"Tom, that isn't necessary--"  
  
"I'm sure captain won't object," the doctor  
said, cutting B'Elanna off. "I'll let her  
know that you will both be relieved from duty  
until nine hundred hours."  
  
"The bridge can survive without me for that  
long," Tom assured his wife teasingly, though  
his gaze on her was serious.  
  
B'Elanna nodded, and looked at the doctor.  
"We'll both be here tomorrow at eight hundred  
hours."  
  
The doctor smiled amiably at them. "Excellent.  
I'll also have those nutritional supplements  
ready, Lieutenant Torres. As I told you  
earlier, a hybrid human-Klingon pregnancy does  
create unique nutritional needs, and the  
supplements will compensate for any deficiency  
in your diet. However, it is still important  
that you eat regular, well-balanced meals--"  
  
"I will," B'Elanna said. He'd already told her  
that too.  
  
"I'll also prescribe something to regulate the  
biochemical fluctuations I mentioned, so we'll  
be prepared if you do begin to experience  
extreme emotional or behavioral volatility--"  
  
"I won't."  
  
The doctor's eyebrows rose at B'Elanna's curt  
tone. "Beyond your average range of emotional  
and behavioral volatility, of course," he  
added dryly.  
  
B'Elanna glared at the doctor.  
  
"I'm feeling emotionally volatile myself right  
now," Tom said. He slipped his hand in  
B'Elanna's, hoping she wouldn't pull hers  
away, as she sometimes did when she thought he  
was trying to placate her. It was true that  
his emotions weren't quite steady at the  
moment, and he wasn't the one carrying the  
baby. "It's been an eventful day. As  
wonderful as this news is for us, Doctor, I  
think we're both still a little . .  
.overwhelmed  
by it all."  
  
The doctor nodded, his expression more  
sympathetic. "That is perfectly  
understandable. This is certainly a major life  
change, and life changes are often stressful.  
But I assure you that medically everything is  
sound, and I'll make sure that remains the  
case. You can both concentrate your attention  
on preparing for your baby's arrival."  
  
"Thanks, Doc," Tom said sincerely. B'Elanna's  
hand was still in his, and he saw her  
expression soften too. "We really appreciate  
that."  
  
"Having a baby can also be a very fulfilling  
experience for both parents." The doctor  
smiled broadly. "To assist you in that  
direction, I am devising a schedule to address  
a variety of important topics--childbirth  
classes, of course, and parenting workshops  
that I'm sure you'll find enlightening. I am  
also researching a number of enrichment  
programs for your baby, including--"  
  
"Can't those wait until after she is born?" Tom  
asked, mostly to stop the doctor's  
enthusiastic monologue.  
  
"Your daughter can experience emotional and  
intellectual stimulation in utero," the doctor  
told him. "For instance, reading out loud to  
her will heighten her verbal and  
communications skills. Then there is music.  
Opera is an excellent source of audio-  
stimulation, and can improve her mathematical  
abilities."  
  
"You don't plan on actually singing it, do  
you?" Tom asked in jest.  
  
"I hadn't thought of that, Lieutenant," the  
doctor replied innocently. "But that's an  
excellent idea. I do have several selections  
which compliment my voice quite admirably,  
including a piece by Puccini that--"  
  
"Doctor, the only way you're singing Puccini to  
my baby is if you remove her from my body so I  
don't have to listen."  
  
The doctor shrugged at B'Elanna's caustic  
statement. "I can also do Klingon opera, if  
you'd prefer."  
  
"That's even worse," B'Elanna said. "Besides,  
our baby is three-quarters human."  
  
Tom didn't quite get the correlation. "That  
doesn't mean she'll dislike Klingon opera."  
  
"Do *you* like Klingon opera, Tom?" B'Elanna  
asked pointedly.  
  
"Well . . .opera is probably a bad example,"  
Tom  
admitted. It was one of the few things  
Klingon that he didn't have a taste for at  
all. Before he could suggest another, more  
enjoyable Klingon pastime B'Elanna spoke  
again, sounding a little weary.  
  
"Doctor, can we talk about this enrichment  
stuff tomorrow? It's been a long day, and I'm  
a little tired."  
  
"Of course," the doctor assented immediately.  
"It's also very important that you get plenty  
of sleep. I'll see you here at eight hundred  
hours."  
  
The doctor moved to his console and pressed a  
key. Tom watched the rotating spinal column  
disappear, and that gave him a thought.  
"Doctor, can we see a complete image of the  
baby?"  
  
B'Elanna had been about to turn around, glad  
that the public scrutiny and endless if well-  
meaning congratulatory plaudits of the past  
few hours were over, and eager to finally  
escape to the privacy of her and Tom's  
quarters. But Tom's question stilled her.  
  
"I suppose I could extrapolate her appearance  
from her genetic profile," the doctor said.  
  
Tom looked at B'Elanna, and she shook her head  
emphatically. "I'd rather wait and be  
surprised."  
  
"You're not the least bit curious?" Tom asked.  
  
"Of course, I'm curious," B'Elanna said. "But  
I'd still rather wait."  
  
Tom frowned. "Okay."  
  
B'Elanna sighed a little at his obvious  
disappointment. "That's my choice, Tom. If  
you really want to see her, I'll just leave  
first and meet you in the corridor."  
  
Tom considered that for a moment. He really  
did want to see their baby. "Are you sure?"  
  
B'Elanna nodded. "Yes." She had no reason to  
deny him that. She smiled faintly, and Tom  
squeezed her hand briefly as the doctor turned  
to his console.  
  
"Remember, this will only be an approximation,"  
the doctor said as his fingers moved quickly  
over the keypad. "I'll display her at six  
months of age. Ready?"  
  
Tom glanced at B'Elanna, who had walked away  
and was already approaching the door.  
"Ready."  
  
A moment later the image of a baby appeared  
where the spinal column had been. The baby's  
back was to Tom, but her tiny body rotated  
slowly until he could see her face. He stared  
at the holo-image in a mixture of amazement and  
delight. This was--this would be his  
daughter. And B'Elanna's, if that wasn't  
patently obvious. It took him several seconds  
to find his voice, but when he did, his words  
spilled out straight from his heart.  
  
"She's beautiful."  
  
^*^*^*^*^  
  
B'Elanna shoved her tools into her bag, glad  
to be done with the plasma injector repair.  
It had taken her a little longer than usual,  
but she'd been distracted all morning. She  
still hadn't quite got used to the fact that  
she was pregnant, even though Tom was already  
planning the "nursery," despite the limited  
space in their quarters. He'd talked last  
night until she'd told him to shut up and let  
her rest. His response had been to  
immediately offer her a glass of water, and  
then a backrub. Once she'd convinced him that  
she just needed to get some sleep, he'd  
contented himself with kissing her goodnight,  
telling her one more time that he was *really*  
happy about her pregnancy (as if she didn't  
know that), and then assuring her that their  
baby would be fine (as if she didn't know that  
too). Still, she'd appreciated his reassurance  
and the unconstrained way he'd embraced the  
concept of impending parenthood. He'd fallen  
asleep next to her, with one arm draped loosely  
over her stomach, while she'd remained wide  
awake thinking about it all, her feelings  
warring between excitement and anxiety over  
the abrupt change to their lives, wondering if  
she was up to this new role--and hoping that  
her doubts were natural. Or maybe she could  
chalk up her churning feelings to the emotional  
volatility the doctor said she might  
experience.  
  
She was happy, if still a little unnerved by  
the fact that there was a life growing inside  
her. She touched her flat belly, and then  
shook her head, for perhaps the fiftieth time  
in the past twenty hours. Incredible. She  
was going to have a baby. A tremulous smile  
lifted her lips. A daughter. Her daughter,  
and Tom's--  
  
"Lieutenant Paris to Lieutenant Torres."  
  
B'Elanna jumped, startled out of her musings.  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm just calling to see how you're feeling."  
  
B'Elanna let out an audible and purposely  
exaggerated sigh. "Is this going to become a  
habit now?"  
  
"No . . .well, not more than once a day anyway.  
Father-to-be's prerogative."  
  
B'Elanna rolled her eyes at Tom's smug  
assertion. Early in their relationship she'd  
actively discouraged any over-attentiveness on  
Tom's part, one of several distancing tactics  
they'd both learned to overcome. She'd become  
more willing to accept his protective  
gestures, to a point anyway. And willing to  
admit to herself that sometimes it was nice  
having someone worry about her.  
  
"I feel fine," she said. She put a slight edge  
in her voice that warned him not to push it.  
She did feel fine, and the procedure had been  
as painless as the doctor had promised. "You  
certainly didn't have to hold my hand in  
Sickbay." She paused for a moment, then added  
softly, "But thanks anyway."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"I am glad it's over though." She was also  
glad he'd been there.  
  
"Me, too," Tom agreed. "Now we know that our  
daughter will be absolutely perfect. By the  
way, have you noticed that it's almost  
lunchtime? I'm headed for the mess hall in a  
few minutes."  
  
B'Elanna hadn't thought that Tom might want to  
meet for lunch. "I have a . . .project I need  
to  
finish, so I'll probably just replicate a  
sandwich."  
  
"Okay." Tom sounded vaguely disappointed,  
though they didn't lunch together all that  
often given how erratic their schedules could  
be on Voyager, hers in particular.  
  
"I should be able to finish my shift on time  
for a change," she told him. "Then I plan on  
heading straight for our quarters."  
  
"Why don't we do dinner in our quarters  
tonight," Tom suggested. "Just the two of us.  
After last night I think we deserve a private  
celebration."  
  
B'Elanna couldn't agree more. The few  
crewmembers who hadn't congratulated her last  
night had found her this morning. Most of the  
time she was glad to be part of what had become  
a very large family on Voyager, but she still  
needed her privacy, especially when it was so  
hard to come by. "I like that plan."  
  
"Great!" Tom's reply was enthusiastic. "Now,  
for the menu, how does a medium rare tri-tip,  
fava beans, ceasar salad, and seven-grain  
rolls sound?"  
  
"Well-balanced," B'Elanna said dryly. "But  
delicious."  
  
"I'll even do the cooking."  
  
B'Elanna snorted. "Don't strain your wrist on  
that replicator, okay?"  
  
"I'll be very careful."  
  
B'Elanna smiled at his droll tone. "I have to  
get back to work. I'll see you tonight,  
Flyboy."  
  
"Okay, Chief," Tom returned. "Or should I call  
you 'mommy' now?"  
  
B'Elanna's eyebrows rose. "Hey, to you I'm  
still the chief." In more ways than one, but  
Tom's more personal application of that title  
was something best left to more private  
surroundings. "Don't you forget it."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Tom replied smartly. "See you  
tonight." Before she could close the comm, he  
added, "Oh, B'Elanna . . ."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Chief engineer *and* mommy is a perfectly  
workable combination. I know you'll be great  
at both."  
  
The comm line clicked, and B'Elanna smiled  
faintly at Tom's sanguine assurance. She felt  
vaguely guilty that she hadn't told him where  
she was going. In Sickbay she'd been so  
insistent that she could wait to see the baby,  
and she really had been prepared to wait. She  
hadn't thought her curiosity could get the  
better of her, but that was before she'd heard  
Tom's words last night. Not just the words,  
but the way he'd said them.  
  
She'd been about to step through the door when  
Tom had given the okay for the doctor to  
display the holographic image of the baby.  
The immediate silence that followed had become  
charged with energy, and emotion. It seemed  
ridiculous, since she was hardly empathic, but  
she'd felt it. Then Tom had spoken those  
words.  
  
"She's beautiful."  
  
His voice had been filled with wonder, and with  
a depth of affection that had been a palpable  
force. She'd slipped out the door quickly,  
before she could give in to her urge to turn  
around and see for herself what had provoked  
Tom's delighted reaction.  
  
When Tom had joined her in the corridor a few  
minutes later, he'd respected her wishes and  
hadn't said anything about seeing the baby.  
But she couldn't miss the smile on his face, or  
the lilt in his voice, or the contented glow  
that had radiated from him. Though it had  
been her choice, she'd felt a tiny bit left  
out. She'd spent much of this morning  
imagining what their baby looked like.  
Finally she'd decided that she couldn't wait--  
  
"Lieutenant Torres."  
  
B'Elanna was startled for the second time in  
several minutes. She suppressed a glare as  
she took the PADD Vorik offered her. She  
skimmed his work and then signed off on it.  
Vorik wasn't the most innovative engineer,  
even for a Vulcan, but he was thorough and  
exact. She rarely needed to correct his work,  
which she appreciated.  
  
"I'm leaving a little early for lunch," she  
told him as she returned his PADD. "You're in  
charge until thirteen hundred hours."  
  
Vorik looked at her curiously. "Are you  
feeling well?"  
  
B'Elanna frowned. "Yes. Why do you ask?"  
  
"It is unusual for you to take an extended  
lunch break. I know that human females  
frequently experience nausea in the early  
stages of pregnancy, due to fluctuating  
hormonal levels."  
  
"And Klingon females sometimes fly into a rage  
at a moment's notice and rip apart entire  
rooms due to their fluctuating hormonal  
levels," B'Elanna noted sharply. "Have you  
seen me do that?"  
  
Vorik's eyebrow rose. "No, Lieutenant."  
  
"I'm fine, Ensign," B'Elanna told him, knowing  
she'd overreacted. But she didn't like the  
idea of anyone assuming her ability was  
compromised. "Or I would be if everyone would  
quit asking if I'm fine. Pregnancy is not an  
illness."  
  
"It is not," Vorik agreed impassively. "It is  
a naturally altered state of being that  
requires temporary lifestyle adjustments."  
  
"I wouldn't count on that," B'Elanna snapped,  
then turned on her heel and strode out of  
Engineering, leaving Vorik behind. It wasn't  
like she had any intention of exposing herself  
to high doses of radiation or something  
equally foolhardy, but she also wasn't going  
to back off any of her duties as chief engineer  
just because she was pregnant. If people were  
already thinking differently, she'd nip that  
perception in the bud right now. Like Tom had  
said, why couldn't she be both chief engineer  
and mother, without compromising either role?  
  
Act 3  
  
Three minutes later, B'Elanna stepped inside  
Holodeck one, and her focus immediately  
returned to her purpose at hand. She looked  
at the hologrid surrounding her. She'd tell  
Tom tonight, she decided. He'd no doubt be  
happy that she shared his knowledge, though  
he'd tease her for succumbing to curiosity.  
She'd take that as her due.  
  
"Computer, access medical file for B'Elanna  
Torres, authorization Torres Beta Four."  
  
The computer responded immediately. "File  
accessed."  
  
"Access fetal genetics file and display  
projection of the baby."  
  
"File accessed. Displaying projection."  
  
The baby appeared a meter away from B'Elanna.  
She was curled in an almost fetal position,  
and her small body rotated slowly. Though the  
baby's back was to her, B'Elanna studied the  
perfectly-formed body, the tiny arms and legs,  
and the fine, silky hair on her head. A slow,  
wondrous smile lit B'Elanna's face. She had  
envisioned the baby with Tom's blonde hair, but  
she didn't mind their daughter's dark hair.  
She would have a bit of her mother in her,  
too--  
  
B'Elanna's smile faded as the baby's face came  
into view. She stared in confusion for  
several moments at the clearly defined ridges  
on the baby's forehead, and her heart started  
to pound in her chest.  
  
How was that possible? The baby was only one-  
quarter Klingon. B'Elanna had assumed their  
daughter would look much more like Tom than  
herself--that she would look human. Instead  
she looked just like B'Elanna.  
  
She looked Klingon.  
  
"Computer, still projection."  
  
B'Elanna thought frantically. It didn't make  
sense. Something must be wrong. Maybe the  
doctor had made a mistake with the genetic  
profile. Though the doctor never made  
mistakes, she grasped at that explanation.  
  
"Computer, verify genetic profile. What are  
the percentages of human and Klingon genetic  
makeup?"  
  
"Genetic profile verified. The projected baby  
is the progeny of Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres  
and Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, as  
indexed. Genetic makeup is seventy-five  
percent human and twenty-five percent  
Klingon."  
  
"Then why does she have forehead ridges?!"  
  
"Forehead ridges are a characteristic of her  
Klingon genetics."  
  
"She's three-quarters human!"  
  
Though B'Elanna's last angry outburst wasn't a  
question, the computer was programmed to  
follow a line of thought and respond, if a  
response was deemed appropriate. "Klingon  
genetic traits typically remain dominant  
through three to four generations."  
  
Dominant. B'Elanna stared at her daughter,  
seeing nothing beyond those forehead ridges,  
the clear and indelible brand of her Klingon  
heritage. Tom's words rang in her head again,  
and the tone of his voice--awestruck,  
delighted, so completely sincere.  
  
"She's beautiful."  
  
Beautiful. A memory flashed into B'Elanna's  
mind unbidden--  
  
//She stood impatiently in front of the door,  
as was her habit when it was time for her  
father to get home. Her mother had repeatedly  
chastised her for it, telling her that her  
impatience wouldn't get her father home any  
faster, but B'Elanna didn't care. Her daddy  
would be walking through that door any minute,  
and she wanted to be here--  
  
The door slid open, and she flew toward him.  
"Daddy!"  
  
She was in his arms almost before he'd crossed  
the threshold. As always, he tossed her in  
the air as she shrieked in delight, then  
caught her again in his arms and smiled widely  
at her. "How's my beautiful little girl?"  
  
She giggled, and wrapped her arms around his  
neck. "Fine, daddy. I learned two more  
alphabets today, Bolian and Vulcan."  
  
Her father smiled at her mother, who had just  
walked into view, and then grinned at  
B'Elanna. "We have not only the most  
beautiful little girl in kindergarten, Miral,  
but the smartest."  
  
B'Elanna beamed, and hugged him tightly. "I  
love you, Daddy."  
  
She felt her daddy press a soft kiss against  
her hair. "I love you too, Bella."//  
  
B'Elanna came abruptly back to the present.  
She felt unaccountably cold. She hugged  
herself, and stared at her baby's image. Her  
daughter wasn't *exactly* like her. Her  
daughter had more human genes, and maybe that  
would make a difference. Her forehead ridges  
might become fainter as she got older, and she  
would look more human than Klingon. It was a  
reasonable assumption . . .  
  
"Computer, project baby at six years of age and  
display--belay that." B'Elanna had thought  
automatically in Kessik years, something she  
hadn't done in quite a while. "Project baby  
at twelve years of age and display image."  
  
The computer automatically referenced the  
Federation standard based on Earth's rotation-  
-and Qo'noS by coincidence had a similar  
period of rotation. The image changed, and a  
prepubescent girl stood in front of B'Elanna.  
Her hair was dark and straight, her nose was  
slightly turned up, and her forehead ridges  
were even more prominent--just as B'Elanna's  
had become more prominent with approaching  
adolescence.  
  
B'Elanna stared in dismay at the image. The  
likeness was greater than she could have  
imagined. Looking at the projection of her  
daughter was like looking in the mirror and  
seeing herself at that age--  
  
B'Elanna closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.  
It had been so long. She didn't want to  
remember. She didn't want it to come back  
now. No. NO . . ..  
  
//B'Elanna looked at the large duffel bag next  
to the door. Her father stood on one side of  
it, his expression grim. Her mother faced  
him, eyes flashing, but uncharacteristically  
silent. There'd been little of the usual  
yelling today, which had made it even worse.  
The tense, ominous silence had given B'Elanna  
an increasingly sick feeling. And now she knew  
why.  
  
Without saying anything, her face a mask of  
accusation and disgust, her mother pivoted and  
stalked out of the room. The sick feeling  
rose further in B'Elanna's stomach. Her mother  
wasn't going to stop her father from leaving.  
"Mommy!"  
  
Her mother ignored her, not even bothering to  
reprimand her for using that childish title  
instead of "mother." She simply disappeared  
into the hallway. B'Elanna turned back to her  
father, who was reaching for his duffel.  
"Daddy, you don't have to do this!"  
  
Her father shook his head, his expression  
defeated. "It's decided, B'Elanna."  
  
"Not by me!" B'Elanna ran to him and grabbed  
the edge of the duffel bag as he lifted it.  
"I don't want you to leave!"  
  
Her father sighed. "You don't understand--"  
  
"Please!" B'Elanna was crying now, but she  
didn't care. This was her fault. She'd told  
him to leave, and now he was doing it.  
"Please don't leave! I didn't mean it--"  
  
"B'Elanna, stop it!" Her father pulled the  
duffel from her grip, and put a restraining  
hand on her shoulder. "This isn't about  
you--"  
  
"Yes, it is! You're leaving because of what I  
said!"  
  
"It's nothing you said, B'Elanna. Your mother  
and I . . ." he sighed, and his gaze on her  
became gentle for a moment, the way she  
remembered it always used to be. Maybe he  
still loved her, and he'd stay, for her--  
  
"I can't stay, B'Elanna." He shook his head,  
his eyes on her sorrowful now. "Sometimes  
things-- sometimes people just don't work out  
together."  
  
Did he mean her--she didn't work out for him  
anymore?  
  
"I'm sorry." He withdrew his hand from her  
shoulder and unexpectedly hugged her. "I'm  
sorry," he repeated, his voice barely a  
whisper.  
  
B'Elanna's heart filled with hope. "Daddy,  
I'll be good. I promise--"  
  
"I know you will," he said, misunderstanding  
her. He pulled away and pressed the door  
release. Then he looked back at her, his lips  
pressed tightly together and his eyes bright.  
She wanted to beg him again not to go, but her  
voice choked in her throat. She could only  
plead silently, *Don't go, Daddy. Please,  
please . . .*  
  
"I'll write," he said, his voice wavering a  
little. Then he turned and stepped quickly  
out the door.  
  
B'Elanna watched the door close behind him, and  
she stood there for a long time, tears still  
running down her cheeks. The same thoughts  
ran through her mind over and over again as if  
her will and her silent, desperate promises  
would make the door open again. *I love you,  
daddy. I'll be good. I won't argue and lose  
my temper. I'll be less Klingon. I'll be  
anything you want me to be. Just come back.  
Come back.*  
  
Through it all, the door stayed closed. He  
didn't come back that day, or ever again.//  
  
B'Elanna blinked, and then forcibly pushed  
those memories away. Her vision was misted by  
the moisture in her eyes, and she shook her  
head once, vehemently. She realized that she  
was shaking. Stop it, she told herself, STOP  
IT.  
  
B'Elanna looked at the young girl in front of  
her. Tom had seen their baby, and he thought  
she was beautiful. He loved their daughter  
already, that much B'Elanna could tell from his  
joy last night. Though he didn't say it often,  
B'Elanna knew he loved her too. She didn't  
doubt his sincerity on either count, but she  
knew from experience how quickly it could  
change, and how one day it could all be gone.  
  
B'Elanna knew that correlation wasn't  
completely reasonable or fair, but her own  
past experience was vivid in her mind. She  
didn't want her daughter to go through the kind  
of pain she had. Her own mixed genes had made  
her life so much more difficult at every step,  
and had dictated how people had reacted to her-  
-even her own father. It had made her  
different from everyone else, a curiosity,  
abnormal . . .  
  
B'Elanna grasped at that last thought. Of  
course. Her own hybrid physiology had always  
been a medical issue. How often had it caused  
difficulties, or delays in diagnosis or  
treatment? If there was a way to avoid that  
kind of potential complication, it could only  
benefit the health and well-being of her  
child.  
  
B'Elanna glanced at the projected holoimage of  
her daughter, and then looked away. She only  
wanted to protect her child. There was  
nothing wrong with that. She needed to talk to  
the doctor immediately.  
  
"Computer, end display and close file."  
  
The image winked out behind her and B'Elanna  
strode purposefully out of the holodeck,  
certain in her conviction.  
  
Act 4  
  
"You're overreacting!"  
  
B'Elanna glared at the doctor. "No, I'm not!  
Everything I said is true. Medical treatment  
for someone with mixed genes is more  
complicated. And she'll be susceptible to  
twice as many diseases than she would be if  
her genes were all from one race."  
  
"Technically, that may be true," he admitted.  
"But you are attaching much more significance  
to any potential complications than they  
merit."  
  
"Even if it's a small possibility, if the risk  
can be eradicated, then I want it to be!"  
  
"What you're suggesting--genetic resequencing--  
would completely change her identity. That's  
a drastic and unnecessary step to take, simply  
to avoid 'possible' health complications that  
will likely never materialize. There's no  
reason to believe your baby will be anything  
less than perfectly healthy, as she is right  
now--"  
  
"What if she doesn't stay that way? What if  
she gets ill?"  
  
"Then I have her genetic data on hand, and  
quite a few files on Klingon-human treatment  
regimens," the doctor told her. "You weren't  
the first Klingon-human hybrid, you know.  
Though I also have *your* extensive file, which  
will be most helpful, considering your shared  
genes."  
  
"Those files still can't answer every possible  
problem she could encounter. Hybrids are  
unique--"  
  
"Lieutenant, I have access to over a thousand  
years of human physiological and medical data,  
yet unknown conditions still occur in humans  
for which there is no immediate answer. It is  
impossible to account for every eventuality, no  
matter what one's genetic makeup."  
  
"But it *is* more difficult to deal with the  
medical needs of a hybrid," B'Elanna insisted  
stubbornly.  
  
The doctor waved his hand. "It's a simple  
matter of recalibrating my instruments--"  
  
"You didn't say it was simple the first time  
you had to recalibrate them for me." B'Elanna  
made her point almost triumphantly. "In fact,  
you were annoyed that I would require more  
specialized care than anyone on Voyager because  
of my mixed genes."  
  
The doctor stammered a little. "Well, perhaps I  
did grouse a bit at the time," he admitted.  
"My bedside manner used to be  
somewhat . . .primitive, before my behavioral  
subroutines evolved." Before she could  
dispute his use of the past tense, he added  
reassuringly, "Meeting your medical needs is  
hardly more difficult than meeting anyone  
else's on Voyager. Easier, in fact, than  
Seven's or Icheb's, with their residual Borg  
components."  
  
"'Hardly more difficult' is still more  
difficult," B'Elanna said.  
  
The doctor sighed, wondering what it would take  
to convince her when she insisted on taking  
everything he said so literally. He decided  
to try a different tack. "I think you're  
looking at this the wrong way, Lieutenant.  
There are advantages and disadvantages to  
every situation. You've never experienced any  
serious health problems because of your mixed  
genes. In fact they are essential to your  
well-being, as we found out during that  
Vidiian incident. They've given you additional  
strength and resources to better endure certain  
conditions. You've recovered faster from both  
injuries and parasitic invasions than the  
average single-species person. And you were  
naturally more resistant to the Borg nanoprobes  
than Commander Tuvok or Captain Janeway."  
  
Though she glared at him for mentioning that  
period he knew she'd rather forget, it was  
true. Her genetics had done half the battle  
of undoing her physical assimilation. "Some of  
the traits endowed by dual genetic makeup--  
redundant organs, built-in genetic resistance  
to twice as many parasitic and disease vectors  
--are very beneficial. And if you want another  
example of that, just look at Naomi. She's  
half-human, half-Ktarian. She's barely had a  
cold all her life."  
  
B'Elanna frowned. "We're not talking about  
Naomi, we're talking about my daughter, and I  
don't think you're listening to me."  
  
The doctor was of the opinion that B'Elanna was  
barely listening to *him.* He didn't know how  
to further reassure her. "Lieut--" he  
softened his voice--"B'Elanna I am a doctor--  
your doctor--and I'm promising you that your  
baby will be fine. It's natural to worry a  
little when you're pregnant, but your baby's  
health is more likely to be adversely affected  
by your heightened anxiety right now than by  
her mixed genetics."  
  
B'Elanna took expected offense at that.  
"Because I want what's best for my baby?!"  
  
"I want the best for her too, Lieutenant," the  
doctor said sharply. "I'd hope you could  
believe that, and trust my medical judgment."  
  
B'Elanna had the grace to look chagrined, and  
the doctor relented slightly. "Since you are  
so concerned, I will study the data you  
suggested, on one condition."  
  
B'Elanna's expression shifted between hopeful  
and suspicious. "What condition?"  
  
"I want you to take a supplement that will  
regulate the biochemical fluctuations in your  
body--"  
  
"This isn't about that--"  
  
"Maybe not, but your anxiety level right now is  
very high. As I said before, emotional  
volatility can be a common side-effect of your  
body's adjustment to the hormonal changes, and  
the effect is intensified by your Klingon and  
human metabolisms striving to find the right  
biochemical balance--"  
  
"If I was fully human, I wouldn't experience  
this emotional volatility," B'Elanna said  
pointedly.  
  
"I wouldn't count on that," the doctor muttered  
under his breath. He said more volubly,  
"Biochemical fluctuations in fully human and  
fully Klingon pregnancies can also cause  
emotional volatility. I've heard it happens  
even in Vulcan pregnancies," he added, "though  
that is a closely-guarded secret."  
  
B'Elanna didn't react to his attempt at humor,  
but she didn't argue the point any further.  
"You can add the supplement to my regimen  
tomorrow."  
  
Though her agreement was grudging, the doctor  
happily accepted it. "Excellent. I'll look  
over the data, and I will think about what you  
said. But please think about what I said too."  
  
B'Elanna nodded curtly, and strode toward the  
door.  
  
"Lieutenant."  
  
B'Elanna stopped and turned around.  
  
"I forgot to ask. Have you discussed these  
concerns with your husband?"  
  
Her face immediately changed, and since the  
lieutenant's expression often answered a  
question before she ever uttered a word, her  
reply was only a reiteration. "No. I wanted  
to get your opinion first."  
  
"I suggest you discuss this with him at your  
first opportunity. Any decision regarding  
your child's health or medical care, now or in  
the future, must be decided by both of you.  
Though I'm sure you're aware of that."  
  
"Of course," B'Elanna said evenly. "I'll talk  
to him. I'm sure he'll want what is best for  
our daughter, just as I do."  
  
On that cryptic comment she strode out the  
door. The doctor watched her leave, then  
walked around his desk and sat down. He  
looked at the screen of his computer console,  
but didn't really see the data he'd been  
working on when Lieutenant Torres had stormed  
into Sickbay. He hoped she really would  
consider everything he'd said, but he had a  
strange feeling that they'd talked around her  
real concerns. The "feeling" was intuitive,  
based on his personal knowledge and nearly  
seven year history with B'Elanna Torres, but  
it was a method of reasoning his self-adapting  
programming now allowed.  
  
A stored memory subroutine flashed across the  
doctor's holographic matrix, an image of  
B'Elanna Torres, fully human after the  
Vidiians had split her in two genetically.  
She'd been sitting on a biobed in Sickbay,  
clearly devastated at the thought of her  
Klingon genes being reinserted again. It was  
one of the first times his holographic  
subroutines had recorded and internalized an  
empathic response to emotion, in that case, to  
extreme distress.  
  
The doctor recalled Lieutenant Paris's face the  
previous evening, when he had viewed the image  
of his baby daughter. The lieutenant's  
expression had been exultant. He'd clearly had  
no qualms about his baby's obvious Klingon  
traits. In fact he'd appeared delighted. But  
Tom Paris had never had the slightest negative  
feeling about his wife's Klingon heritage, as  
far as the doctor knew. From that the doctor  
could certainly predict the pilot's reaction  
to the idea of changing his baby's genetic  
makeup.  
  
He'd be vehemently against it.  
  
The doctor hoped Tom would be able to reassure  
B'Elanna, and that they'd work it out  
together. He had made a promise to study the  
data, however, and he would do so, though he  
was certain there would be nothing present  
that could change his mind. Genetically, baby  
girl Torres-Paris was already perfectly sound  
in every way.  
  
^*^*^*^  
  
Captain Janeway found B'Elanna in the chief  
engineer's office, studying a dataPADD  
intently. Janeway hadn't used any particular  
stealth in entering the office, but B'Elanna's  
attention was so focused on what she was doing  
that she apparently hadn't heard the door  
slide open and closed.  
  
"B'Elanna."  
  
B'Elanna jumped, and dropped the PADD on her  
desk.  
  
"I'm sorry," Janeway said. "I didn't mean to  
startle you. Whatever's on that PADD must be  
fascinating."  
  
To Janeway's surprise, B'Elanna looked a little  
flustered. "Yes, uh . . .I was just working on  
my propulsion idea."  
  
Janeway sat down in the chair on the opposite  
side of the desk. A week ago B'Elanna had  
given her a brief and very vague synopsis of  
her new propulsion theory. "No need to look  
as if you're doing something you shouldn't be.  
If your idea works out, we just might get  
Voyager home sooner rather than later.  
Consider your research part of your on-duty  
assignments."  
  
B'Elanna nodded, and pushed the PADD in  
question aside. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
"I do need the warp core report though."  
  
"Oh . . ." B'Elanna sorted through the PADDs  
that  
were routinely piled on her desk and plucked  
one out without hesitation. "Here it is. The  
diagnostic revealed no irregularities."  
  
"That's no surprise," Janeway said as she  
briefly skimmed the data on the PADD B'Elanna  
had handed her. After a few moments she  
dropped the PADD back on the desk, and looked  
at her chief engineer. "I know you've probably  
heard this several times today, but  
considering your visit to Sickbay this  
morning, I'm compelled to ask--how are you  
feeling?"  
  
B'Elanna sighed audibly. "I'm fine. Really."  
  
"Good," Janeway said. "And don't worry, this  
isn't where I ask if you need to take more  
time off, or if you want to transfer some of  
your duties to Lieutenant Carey. I know you  
well enough to know that you have no intention  
of spending your pregnancy sitting on a couch  
eating bonbons." In fact, she knew her chief  
engineer wouldn't accept any limitations that  
weren't medically necessary.  
  
B'Elanna smiled faintly. "The couch is out,  
though I wouldn't refuse the bonbons."  
  
Janeway grinned back. "Good choice. By the  
way, I know I offered my congratulations last  
evening, but I do want you to know how truly  
happy I am for you, B'Elanna. And for Tom."  
  
B'Elanna looked a little disconcerted for a  
moment, though she replied sincerely, "Thank  
you, Captain. I know Tom and I didn't exactly  
clear this with you, but it was a bit of a  
surprise to us too."  
  
"I'm not a student of biology, but I must admit  
I assumed Tom and you would need medical  
assistance to conceive."  
  
"We thought so too," B'Elanna said ruefully.  
"We did discontinue our contraception boosters  
when we got married, so we were open to the  
idea of having a family. But the odds against  
natural conception in our case were so high  
that we assumed it would happen much later, if  
at all."  
  
Janeway smiled. "Instead it happened sooner."  
  
B'Elanna nodded. "I hope you don't mind."  
  
"Why would I mind?" Janeway asked, though she  
could guess what B'Elanna was going to say.  
  
"Some people might think these aren't the best  
conditions in which to raise a child. And  
this is a Starfleet ship--"  
  
"It is a Starfleet ship, but we're also in a  
unique situation out here." Janeway paused.  
"Though I must admit, when we were first  
stranded in the Delta quadrant I was glad no  
one wanted to immediately start raising  
families. It was difficult enough just to  
survive from day to day, and to mold ourselves  
into one integrated crew. We've done that  
very successfully. In fact we've become more  
than a crew. We're a community now, and I  
certainly don't expect any of you to postpone  
your personal lives forever, or deny  
yourselves the opportunity to have children."  
  
B'Elanna cocked an eyebrow. "Will you still  
say that if there are a dozen kids on Voyager  
in the next few years?"  
  
Janeway chuckled at B'Elanna's question.  
Though the romantic relationships among the  
crew had tended to be casual in the early  
years, as time had passed and everyone on  
Voyager had settled in for the long haul the  
number of serious liaisons had inevitably  
grown. There were a dozen permanent couples  
among the crew now, and several more she  
suspected were headed that way. She knew it  
was hardly out of the realm of possibility  
that some of them would decide to follow Tom  
and B'Elanna's example. "We've managed to  
adapt to every other change that's been thrust  
upon us," Janeway pointed out. "As to whether  
it's wise to raise a child under these  
circumstances, Naomi is happy and well-  
adjusted, and the children we rescued from the  
Borg did well while they were here. So we'll  
adjust, whether it's just one baby, or a dozen  
more to follow."  
  
B'Elanna nodded, looking marginally relieved.  
  
Janeway studied B'Elanna for several moments.  
She couldn't help noticing B'Elanna's  
preoccupation, though maybe it wasn't  
surprising that her chief engineer was feeling  
a little overwhelmed at the moment. "It must  
be a little intimidating to know that you're  
now nurturing a new life so completely  
dependent on you."  
  
Some emotion crossed B'Elanna's face--a flash  
of guilt maybe--but it was gone so quickly  
Janeway wondered if she'd imagined it. "I  
didn't mean to make you feel more anxious,  
B'Elanna. It's a big responsibility, but I  
don't doubt you can handle it."  
  
"I hope so."  
  
"I know so," Janeway told her reassuringly.  
"I have to admit I'm a little bit envious too.  
I've always wondered how it would feel to know  
there's a baby growing inside your body."  
  
"It feels . . .strange," B'Elanna said softly.  
"It doesn't seem quite real yet."  
  
"Well, I sure it will seem real the first time  
she kicks," Janeway said.  
  
"I guess it will--" B'Elanna paused. "How do  
you know the baby is a she?"  
  
"Tom mentioned it. I hope that was all right."  
  
"We agreed to keep that just between us, since  
everyone found out about the baby so quickly."  
B'Elanna's tone was one of resignation. "If  
he told you, he's probably already told  
everybody on the ship."  
  
Janeway knew Tom tended to disseminate  
information freely in general, but he always  
respected a matter of protocol or a  
confidence. "Tom came into the ready room to  
deliver a report, and it slipped out. He  
didn't say anything on the bridge, now that I  
think about it, even though he was exuberant  
today, to say the least. I won't say anything  
to anyone else until it's common knowledge,  
but I'd say your husband is afflicted with  
Proud Father Syndrome at the moment and barely  
able to contain it."  
  
"Tom does tend to get carried away," B'Elanna  
said. "At least until the next new thing  
comes along."  
  
Janeway sensed an undercurrent of anxiety  
beneath B'Elanna's facile remark. She spoke  
equally casually, "Oh, I don't know about  
that. Tom may flit from hobby to hobby, but  
the things that are central to his life keep  
their place. Like flying. And his  
relationship with you." B'Elanna's expression  
flickered at that. "And he's already  
completely smitten with his daughter, so you  
don't have to worry about that either."  
  
"I'm not worried," B'Elanna said quickly.  
  
"Is something else bothering you?" Janeway  
asked.  
  
B'Elanna met Janeway's astute gaze. "The baby  
may need to undergo another procedure."  
  
Janeway frowned. "I got the impression from  
Tom that your baby was healthy now that her  
spine is realigned."  
  
"There could be other problems in the future--"  
B'Elanna stopped abruptly, and began rummaging  
through her PADDs. "The doctor isn't sure  
yet."  
  
From B'Elanna's tone it was obvious she didn't  
want to talk about it, though she was clearly  
anxious. But Tom wasn't anxious at all.  
Whatever the doctor has said, Janeway thought  
perhaps B'Elanna had taken it more seriously  
than the doctor had intended.  
  
"B'Elanna, it's natural to worry when you're  
pregnant," Janeway said gently. "Or so I've  
heard. But, as my grandmother used to say,  
there's no use in borrowing trouble. You can  
trust the doctor's judgment, and if any  
problems do crop up, I know he'll take care of  
them. Whatever his personality deficits, his  
medical skills are without peer."  
  
B'Elanna didn't smile at Janeway's sardonic  
assessment of the doctor, but she nodded in  
apparent agreement. "I know."  
  
Janeway hoped so. She stood. "I have to check  
back in on the bridge before I go off-duty.  
Isn't your shift almost over too?"  
  
"I just have a few things to finish before I  
go," B'Elanna said, glancing at her pile of  
PADDs again.  
  
"When you're finished, enjoy your evening,  
Lieutenant," Janeway said as she moved toward  
the door. Then she stopped and looked back at  
her chief engineer. "B'Elanna, if you ever  
want to talk, friend to friend, you do know I'm  
available, don't you?"  
  
B'Elanna gave Janeway a startled look, but she  
nodded slowly.  
  
"I know I don't have a lot of experience in  
this particular area, but I am more than  
willing to listen."  
  
"Thank you, Captain," B'Elanna said softly.  
"I'll remember that."  
  
Janeway slipped out the door, hoping B'Elanna  
would remember it, and maybe even act on it.  
  
Epilogue  
  
After a quick walk through main Engineering,  
and a few casual greetings to those on duty  
there, Janeway headed back to the bridge. Her  
mind was still on her chief engineer as she  
approached the turbolift. Obviously B'Elanna  
was feeling some unease about her pregnancy,  
though she'd seemed to accept it calmly enough  
last night. The full reality was probably  
sinking in now, and B'Elanna was having first  
pregnancy jitters. Janeway could understand  
that it might take a few days for her to  
completely adjust to the unexpected change,  
even if that change was a positive one.  
  
Tom, however, seemed to have no hesitancy at  
all accepting the change. Janeway smiled as  
she entered the turbolift, remembering how  
animated he'd been all day. She was glad he  
had so few reservations about his new role.  
She'd seen Tom cajole B'Elanna out of worry or  
doubt more than once with his optimism and  
good-humor; she was sure he would again.  
  
Janeway leaned against the turbolift railing as  
the door closed. She'd been serious when  
she'd told B'Elanna that she was a little  
envious. Though she hadn't earnestly  
contemplated having a child at any previous  
point in her life, she'd always considered it  
an option open to her in the future. Although  
being a captain was a demanding and very full-  
time job, other Starfleet captains had found a  
way to have both a family and a career. She  
hadn't directly discussed the subject of  
children with Mark, but if they'd remained  
together, they likely would have at some  
point.  
  
But that had been the case back in the Alpha  
quadrant, when her life had been proceeding  
along a more normal course. In the Delta  
quadrant, faced with decades of isolation and  
responsibility for the well-being of her crew,  
the possibility of ever having her own child  
had been all but taken away from her. Hell,  
she hadn't even been able to consider the  
possibility of a serious ongoing relationship.  
  
The kiss she and Chakotay had shared in her  
office over a month ago flashed into her  
mind. They hadn't talked about it directly,  
because she'd been careful to divert the  
conversation to another subject whenever it  
might have surfaced. But she had thought  
about it, and hadn't come to any conclusion  
about why at that particular moment she'd  
allowed herself to indulge in something she'd  
so successfully convinced herself she didn't  
want anymore. And that she'd long ago  
convinced herself she couldn't have anyway.  
  
Maybe it was because she'd deleted the Fair  
Haven program a few months ago. It had run its  
course of popularity with the crew and even Tom  
had abandoned it, likely at B'Elanna's urging,  
since she'd never liked the program. Tom  
turning over the deletion code to her had  
pushed Janeway to a decision. The casual  
companionship of a hologram had been a poor  
substitute for a real companion, the doctor and  
his more sophisticated self-awareness  
notwithstanding. Certainly Michael O'Sullivan,  
programmed charm or not, hadn't banished the  
persistent loneliness she increasingly felt in  
her life. Not the way a flesh and blood man who  
had his own mind, who listened to her but also  
argued with her, and who didn't indulge her  
opinions and whims simply because he was  
programmed to do so, could banish her sense of  
isolation.  
  
Janeway shook herself out of her reverie and  
realized that she was still standing in a  
motionless turbolift. She chastised herself;  
she had things to do, more important things  
than contemplating something she shouldn't be  
contemplating. She straightened and addressed  
the computer.  
  
"Bridge."  
  
  
  
  
  
Continue on to Legacies II 


End file.
